The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls
by Tohdoh
Summary: "The tide rises, the tide falls. Life goes on, even when I have left humanity and happiness far behind." A glimpse into Galatea's past life, as well as her transformation and ascension into the 3rd most powerful Claymore of her generation. [Ties into canon. Old fic from 2011, relaunched and revised. Old chapters (1-20) re-uploaded along with new ones.]
1. Beginning

**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (1)  
Prologue**

You may think of me as "the perfect Claymore," as many of my fellow warriors have.

Years ago, I would've swelled in pride to be given yet another flattering nickname. Now the mere mention of my once lofty titles fill me with shame and embarrassment.

I am no god. And I am far from perfect.

Like every single warrior before and after me, I was once human. I once harbored my own scars, flaws, and share of sad stories. Yet I was so caught up in my own arrogance that I came close to forgetting my own humanity. The power, prestige and high rank I had garnered during my career as a warrior now mean little to me.

As a lowly and humble nun at Rabona, I could finally enjoy the simple pleasures in life. Nothing warms my heart more than the orphans saying how much they loved and adored me. The memory of my promotion to number three now seems so irrelevant, almost laughable when I considered how proud I used to be.

It has been many years since I've touched my sword, because I have my hands full with other things such as gathering flowers with the children or helping with the alms at church.

But whenever the Holy City is ever in danger, I will not hesitate to draw my blade once more and fight to the end. Even now, I can never truly let go of my warrior spirit, that instinct to protect others. If there is one good thing that came out of becoming a warrior, it's gaining the strength to protect people I care about.

Most of all, my years at Rabona helped to relieve the pain I have been bottling up when I was a cold, unfeeling Yoma slayer. Father Vincent had told me that the best way is to simply let it out before it becomes a burden that would drag down my life. I have no secrets to hide anymore. I'm willing to share with you the cherished memories of my human life, as well as the heart-wrenching experiences that still kindle my inner warrior to this day.

I am Sister Latea, once known as God-Eye Galatea, the Organization's number three. And this is my story.


	2. Owen

**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (2)  
Owen**

Galatea was never the name of my human life. I was born and wedded under the name Eleanor, which meant "shining light."

The village I grew up in wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Other than the occasional merchants bartering for goods, village activity consisted of maintaining the prosperity of its people. My hometown was situated rather close to the shoreline, where the waves pulled at the sand in rhythmic, gentle beats. We heavily depended on the fish and crabs teeming in those waters. As a result, the majority of men made their living catching them. Women dominated the farms and fields as they tended livestock and crops alike. As for younger females such as myself back then, we spent our days dabbling in various arts and hobbies. I committed myself to sewing and flower arranging whenever housekeeping duties didn't occupy me. But as soon as I had turned nineteen, another issue soon dominated above all else: suitors.

I was well aware that men from every corner in the village admired my long golden locks and slender body. I still remember the many times I have rendered them helpless with my trademark casual smirk. Unlike most young women of my age, who put up a great show to attract the opposite gender, I decided to downplay it and keep a low profile. At first I had received the men's admiration, and my popularity, with great pride. But as they continued their dogged pursuits to win me over, I grew tired of it. I could barely carry out even the most mundane tasks around the house without having flocks of dreamy-eyed men fawning over me.

The women were not much different. My days of working in the fields were preoccupied with their constant questions about my "methods."

"What methods?" I would say with amusement. "I wash and keep myself clean just like the rest of you."

"Yes, but how is it that your hair is so long and glossy? Doesn't all the dirt and sweat get to you as you work?"

I would wryly point out the obvious: "I tie up my hair whenever I work outside. It's common sense."

"But there's got to be more to it, Eleanor. Is there some kind of special herb you use to-"

"There is no magic formula." I would finally huff in exasperation. "Now if you would excuse me, I have to go sift the wheat. Alone."

It was a lame excuse to go off and visit one of my best friends, Owen.

Sharp salty air tinged my nose. Seagulls screeched overhead as I made my way closer to the small port and the complex that surrounded it.

I could see Owen inside the village's forge, hammering and toiling away at the red-hot metal of a blade in the making. As I approached him, Owen paused from his work and beamed through a patchy mask of soot. The dirt on his face was nearly as dark as his casually untidy hair.

"Good afternoon, Eleanor. Tired?"

"You have no idea."

"Who was it this time? The men, or the ladies?"

Then he studied my face and said, "I'm guessing both."

I gave a wry nod. "You know me so well, Owen."

Like most villagers, Owen was aware of the courting drama. But being the close and considerate friend he was, he didn't bring up the subject unless I did.

I decided to turn the tide of the conversation over to his side. "How long will it be until you stop being an apprentice?" I asked.

"My master didn't say, but I reckon it's soon. He has been giving me a lot of solo tasks lately."

I was glad that Owen was on the verge of becoming a full-fledged professional. He had taken interest in weapons since he was a boy, and lived his dream as a blacksmith apprentice ever since.

"You want to see some of the new weapons I finished?"

I chuckled at the genuine excitement in his voice. "Of course. What do you have so far?"

Owen gestured to a large desk behind him before returning to his work. I went over to examine it. The medley of assorted daggers and knives glinted like an array of silver teeth. I suppressed a shudder as I ran a tentative finger down the flat of a particularly long blade. I lifted it from the table to get a closer look.

Owen turned and noticed my curiosity. "Oh, that's called a dirk. Not as huge and lengthy as a broadsword, but not quite as small as a knife either. It's a blade built for multiple purposes."

I merely nodded as I delicately turned it over in my hands, admiring the beauty and strength the blade exhibited.

Owen grinned. "You like it, huh?"

"You crafted the entire thing? Including the hilt?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "Yes, I did. I have to admit that it's not my best one. I messed up on some of the carvings; symmetry and balance are things I've got to improve on, my master said."

"What are you talking about? I may not know anything about forging, but I think it looks magnificent."

"Thanks, Ellie." Owen flushed with pride, though I could barely see it from all the soot on his face.

I set the blade back down, and for the next few minutes we made pleasant small talk. Interacting with Owen always allowed me to get comfortable and be myself. I didn't have to act fake and polite like I did with other men. And I certainly didn't have to make an effort to mask my annoyance and rudeness. Far from being pretentious, Owen was an honest, down-to-earth soul I could trust. He was someone who knew there was more to me than the shape of my hips and chest. He was someone who was fine with who I am, not what I look like. He made me feel special in a way no other man or his flatters ever could. I would always be Ellie to him; no one else could call me that with the affection he had.

Owen was finally done pounding the cooling blade and sank into a chair, exhausted from a day's work. He didn't bother to wipe his face.

"My hands are ringing. And so are my ears," he remarked with a wry smile.

I went to get a cloth soaked in cold water and wrung out the excess moisture. "You want me to help?"

"Sure, Ellie. That would be great."

I made gentle sweeps around his cheeks, forehead and chin. He sighed in content at the cool sensation. I managed to wipe off most of the grime so that I could properly see his strong, handsome visage. I tried not to blush at the thought as I quickly focused on wiping his neck.

"Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?"

I met Owen's gaze in surprise. This time I couldn't do anything to hide the crimson shade that sprang to my cheeks. I found myself smiling in pleasure at his surprise remark.

Owen gave a genuine, honest grin. "They only make you look even more radiant. It adds to your wonderful smile."

Before I knew it, I leaned down to drop a kiss on his lips. We lingered in those few intimate seconds before we softly broke apart. He looked pleasantly surprised, with his mouth slightly parted. I gave him another quick kiss, and my eyes glowed with appreciation.

"Thank you, Owen. That has to be the most honest, heartfelt thing I've ever heard from a man."

He laughed. "I know what you mean. Whew, you made me so happy, now I feel like I can work forever."

I fought to hide a wide grin. "Don't drop dead on me now."

"Don't worry, Ellie. I'll do my best."


	3. By the Waves

**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (3)  
By the Waves**

It was official.

Owen and I became an inseparable couple, as well as the center of our village's attention. Men no longer flooded me with their admiration and flattery. To my amusement, I sensed collective disappointment among them as soon as they heard that I had been claimed. Most of the older villagers, who we had known as children, knew the day would come. It seemed that right after recovering from the suitors, I was bombarded next with the villagers' congratulatory remarks. It got so excessive to the point that privacy was no longer an option for us.

Only when we strayed away from the village and far down the coast did we have time for ourselves. My favorite getaway spot was a large inlet where the river and sea meet. When I was an adventurous little girl, I would often wander away from my parents to perch on the rocks. Then I would watch the tides swell and crash dangerously close to where I stood and admired it all. Now I had an equally daring partner who could enjoy it with me.

Owen and I would come down during sunset, a time when most village activities ceased and the sky was at the peak of its beauty. We would help each other scale up the craggy rocks, and simply relax until the sun sank beneath the waves.

One day, as I silently leaned onto Owen's embrace, he brushed some strands from my face and slipped a soft kiss at my neck.

"What are you thinking about, Ellie?"

"For a long time since I was little," I replied. "I've always wondered what has me so fascinated with the tides."

We watched as an incoming swell smashed against the rocks, sending a cool spray lightly splashing against our faces. On stormy days, the waves would be strong enough to break a man's legs on impact. Sometimes they swept crabs from the ocean floor and sprawl them all over the shore.

"The sea can be so gentle, yet so powerful and destructive," I murmured. "And I suppose that I'm also mesmerized by the _movement. _Not just in the tides, but the rivers and grass as well. Whenever I watch water rush by, or grass rippling under the wind, I feel this energy…some unseen force that keeps our entire world going."

I looked up at Owen with a wry smile. "I must sound weird to you…musing about my strange obsession with these things."

Owen shook his head and wrapped an arm over my waist. "I don't think it's weird at all. I like that you have these insights." He turned his gaze back to the setting sun. "For me, I find the water a pleasant escape from the fire and smoke all day. You're certainly right about it being gentle; salt water is the best cure for the blisters and burns I get. I wish I can come this often to relax. Perhaps I could…after I become a full-fledged blacksmith. Then I could have days off whenever I wanted to."

I gave him a confident smile. "With the skills you have, with the rate you're going…I'm sure you'll do just that in no time."

"Thanks, Ellie. It also means that I can spend more time with you." He gently turned my head to the side so he could kiss me. I shifted to properly face him. A soft moan escaped me as his lips brushed against mine. He pulled me closer to him with one arm and ran his fingers through my hair with the other. Our kiss deepened as Owen gently sucked at my bottom lip. I felt like melting into his arms. Passion raged inside me like unquenchable fire.

We made small, quick kisses until we had to break apart and catch our breath. A content smile graced his lips as he closed his eyes and brought his forehead to mine.

"You are as beautiful and breathtaking as the sunset." He murmured. I responded with a grateful kiss on his lips.

No other man brought blushes to my cheeks like Owen did. Coupled with the sun's warmth, all the heat that glowed on my face made me feel like an angel. Even to this day I will never forget that wonderful, _human _feeling. But back then, I was simply a lovestruck young woman. A woman whose humanity was the only thing she ever knew and took for granted.

Suddenly, Owen released me and bent down to his knees. I threw him a questioning look. "Owen, what are you—"

A gasp hitched in my throat. A ring blazed before my eyes with the golden brilliance of reflected sunlight.

"Eleanor, I've been so in love with you for many years. Your beauty and personality captivates me, and I treasure the bond we've shared. Will you mar—whoa!"

Owen reeled back as I seized him into a tight hug. The joyous tears that ran down my face stained his as I kissed his cheek.

"Of course I'll marry you, silly," I breathed. "I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with any other man."

We kept standing there, embraced in each other's arms as our bodies basked the warm sunlight and the cool sea spray. It was the very definition of a perfect day.

* * *

The town was abuzz with excitement once more over the upcoming wedding. Pigs were slaughtered, fruits were picked and vegetables were harvested…all for the huge feast that would follow the ceremony. Owen and I were just as eager, and a bit anxious. Whenever I wasn't with him reciting the vows or relaxing by the tides, the village women helped me with choosing a dress. Or rather, they _tried_ to.

They made a great fuss over the slightest of details or nuances of the many styles they presented to me. Satin or velvet? Ruffles or cuts? Sometimes they debated and bickered so much that they seemed to leave me out of the picture. As for me, I just wanted a dress that was simple and didn't itch. I didn't understand why people would invest so much into a flimsy, frilly piece of clothing that would never be worn again after that one special day. When I told this to Owen, he laughed.

"You're becoming like me, Ellie: a practical and down-to-earth soul. I'd think the same thing too, if I were a woman."

I knew they meant well. But they have been easily carried away for longer than I could patiently handle. One day, when the women held an intense debate over corsets, an elderly lady spoke up: "This is Eleanor's wedding. Let her choose what she likes. Besides, she will look absolutely gorgeous in whatever she chooses."

I heartily thanked the old woman when we were alone. Since then, the days before the wedding went on without further hassles.

* * *

Owen and I got married on a beautiful, sunny day by the beach. The villagers had made an effort to set up chairs and carpets on the sand. We exchanged our vows lovingly and sincerely. It took me considerable effort to rein in my emotions, to keep them from spilling through my eyes as I faced the man who would become my lifelong mate. After the rings and a kiss, we were pronounced husband and wife. To be honest, the wedding felt like a rush. Especially after the long days of rehearsing and preparing.

During the reception, Owen filled me in on the details. "Did you see the villagers' faces when you walked down that lane?"

"No," I admitted. "I only had eyes for you."

"Well, everyone was utterly shocked over how stunning you look. The ring boy had told me that you looked like an angel to him. With that veil you had on, I agree. I would even say it was as if Teresa, the goddess of love, appeared in our midst to marry me."

I merrily laughed at the thought. I could feel the same merriment cavorting and vibrating in the atmosphere. In times like this, it was rare for an entire village to experience this collective ease. I look around and see it present in everyone.

Adults chatted and laughed over good food. Elders contently listened to the waves lapping at their feet as they lingered at the shore. Children chased each other and ducked amid tables to resume their games at open sand. A smile crossed my face when I recognized the flower girl and ring boy among them. Owen also watched them with amusement.

"Adorable little tykes," he remarked. "You reckon we might have a few of our own someday?"

"I'd love to," I replied. "Though just one or two is good enough for me."

Owen laughed. "I figured you would say that."

"What about you?" I asked. "What kind of children would you like to have?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. A son would be a great helper at my forge. I could teach him everything I know about my trade, so he can grow into a tough and independent man. Then again, I certainly wouldn't mind having a daughter as beautiful and wonderful as you."

I chuckled and shook my head at the same time. "Will you stop that? You always make such flattering comments about me."

Owen pretended to sulk. "What's wrong with me telling the truth? You know I never lie."

I leaned forward to kiss him, so that I turned his mock frown into a genuine smile. "I guess that's why I'm in love with you." I said. "I'm a sucker for honest men."

He winked roguishly at me. "And good looks are a bonus."


	4. Malachy

**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (4)  
Malachy**

Some say that after the excitement of courting and flirting, marriage puts an end to the fun. Life becomes mundane, routine, boring. And peppered with the occasional bickering, fussing and fighting.

My life as a married woman was completely inaccurate with that claim.

Every day was a day I share with my husband, a step forward in our relationship. Every day we committed ourselves to make our bond as strong and fiery as the fires at Owen's forge. It wasn't anything extravagant, really...kisses, cradles and hugs were the simple yet affectionate gestures we made. Sometimes whenever I took a break from work or mulled to myself, Owen always surprised me with a hug from behind and a kiss to my cheek. That was one of my favorites. Or when Owen felt especially playful, he would nuzzle his nose against mine. We eventually dubbed it "the butterfly kiss." It tickled, and we would always smile and laugh afterwards.

As our lives as husband and wife progressed, we took our intimacy to the next level.

Nothing can quite describe the beauty of making love. Even today I vividly remember the snippets of our nights together. As if the passion I felt and enjoyed seared into my mind like a brand. The tingling sensation of touching skin, his tongue intertwined with mine, his hands that gently squeezed my breasts...I remember it all. The fiery passion that burned when our hips furiously worked, as our moans filled the air...I would never forget any of it. And when Owen and I laid there sweating and panting, we would hold and cradle each other until we slept.

I won't deny that it hurt at first. But it was a good kind of pain, something I was willing to overlook in the physical bond that we shared.

* * *

One day I woke up feeling utterly terrible. My stomach ached to the touch and I felt uncomfortably hot. When I rose from bed, my legs nearly gave way. I barely made it outside the house before my stomach heaved. I threw up so violently that tears sprang to my eyes and my throat burned. Then I felt Owen's strong hands supporting me, patting my back.

"Are you feeling sick, love?"

"Sorry," I mumbled. For him to see me like this, heaving out my guts before his eyes...it was embarrassing. I turned away from him when I felt bile rise in my throat again.

Owen brushed long strands of hair away from my face. He continued to rub my back.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here for you." he reassured me. "Come on; I'll get you back to bed and bring you cold water to drink."

Owen wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me walk back inside. I laid down in our bed while he headed for the kitchen. He came back minutes later with a cup of water and a soaked towel. I gulped down the water greedily while Owen pressed the towel against my forehead. He lingered at the bedside, hovering over me protectively.

"How are you feeling, Eleanor? Do you still feel nauseated?"

My voice came out weak and thin. "No, not anymore. I just feel tired, hot, aching..."

I've never felt so ill. My body suffered from sweating and trembling. Owen shifted the blankets up to my neck and made sure I was comfortable. His soothing voice tickled my ear.

"I'll go get the village doctor. In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you feel quite this bad." He kissed my warm cheek. "Don't worry; I'll be right back for you."

I watched him depart, then I shrank back into the covers and fought to suppress the shivering. I didn't know what was going on with me. I have always been relatively fit and healthy. Even the rare colds I came down with were nothing compared to this.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about anything that would make me throw up again. I wrap the sheets tightly around me and tried to take a nap, hoping for my husband's return.

* * *

An unusually intense case, the doctor had said. But nothing horrendous at all. In fact, it was quite the opposite: I was expecting a child.

The news took away much of the nausea I had felt upon awakening. Despite the pain that persisted in my abdomen, a radiant smile crossed my face. Owen's reaction was that of mingled joy and shock.

"Are you sure about it, doctor?"

The elderly man nodded. "As sure as the happiness on your faces. I estimated that the baby is a few weeks old as of now."

Before the doctor left, he offered me an herbal drink I should take whenever I felt sick. It tasted strong and bitter, yet it worked wonders. The solution put an ease to my stomach pain and helped me get a peaceful sleep.

After a few weeks of the doctor's generous medications, I felt ready to resume work. But Owen insisted that I should only work till noon and avoid any tedious tasks. So instead of toiling at the fields, I tended the livestock. Over time I actually enjoyed spending time with the horses and cows, who got along with me quickly.

I didn't get to see Owen until he would come home late in the evening. While I would ask about his day, he would often ask me how I was feeling. Eventually, he also asked what kind of unusual food I craved at the moment.

"So what will it be today, ma'am?" he playfully inquired. "Pickles and crackers, or crab meat wrapped in spinach leaves?"

Like the doctor had said, my pregnancy side-effects were unusually intense. My bizarre cravings were of no exception. Thankfully I've got the morning sickness out of the way. The next thing I knew, I found myself hungry for food combinations I wouldn't even dream of to this day. But being the loving husband and friend he always was, Owen tolerated my tastes and provided whatever I needed.

As for visiting our favorite spot, we still stopped by the shoreline sometimes; but we didn't stay there as long as normally did. Just as I was fascinated with the water's movement, the unborn life stirring inside never ceased to amaze me. Months passed, and the swell of my belly grew more prominent. So did the little kicks that sent my hand fluttering to my stomach.

One time, when Owen and I snuggled next to each other on the rocks, a funny thing happened. The baby gave a great big kick just after a huge wave boomed against the rocks and whipped up a mile-high spray. Owen, whose hands laid on my belly, felt it just as I did.

"Aw, poor thing. The little guy must've been scared witless." he laughed.

Towards the eighth and ninth months, I completely stopped working and, to my dismay, stopped going to the beach. I couldn't afford to succumb to contractions when I was miles away from the village. My time at home made me feel lazy and useless, while Owen toiled away at the forge as a full-fledged artisan. So I did everything I could to make him comfortable as soon as he got home. I fixed dinner, treated whatever burns or blisters he had, and talked about how the baby was doing.

"At this point in time, he should be ready to come out anytime soon." I shrugged.

Owen raised an eyebrow. "He? How do you know for sure it's a boy?"

"Motherly intuition. I just have a hunch that I'm going to give birth to a beautiful baby boy."

The next day after that began with a rough morning. I woke up wincing and clutching my stomach. Owen was up in a flash. "Eleanor, are you all right?"

I sighed in relief when the pain died down. "I think so. He's kicking more than usual today."

"If you're sure you don't need anything else, I'm going to work then."

Owen left to get ready for the day. I sat up in bed, gingerly feeling my belly. I felt very large and strangely tender.

Suddenly a sharp pain pierced me. It swelled to a cramp that made me hunch over and moan. This time it didn't stop. The pain came back to wrack my body again and again.

I felt Owen's hands on my shoulders.

"Owen, I think I'm-"

To my horror, my suspicion was confirmed when I felt wetness pool between my legs.

His eyes widened. "The baby's coming."

Without a moment to lose, he swept me up into his sturdy arms. We were out the door and making a hasty dash for the infirmary. All of a sudden, I felt nervous and a little scared. Doubts raced through my mind...about the pain, the birth, the baby-everything. Yet when I felt Owen's chest against my head and his hands clutching me close to him, comfort replaced much of my fear.

'I'm not in this alone.' I thought. 'We will get through this, and we'll share the joy together.'

* * *

It was a hard and painful birth. A midwife and some nurses milled around the room we were ushered into. By then my body shuddered from the nonstop waves of sheer pain. It felt like hours that stretched on indefinitely. I gripped Owen's calloused hand through the whole ordeal. Despite the cries and groans that escaped my lips, Owen faithfully stayed by my side.

"You're doing a good job, Eleanor. A wonderful job." the midwife assured me. "Ah, I see the head. Not far along now."

True to what she said, the rest of labor went on relatively easy.

By the time I was done, sweat soaked my entire face and body. My thighs ached and my head was swimming. I was so tired I could barely catch my breath, let alone speak.

So Owen asked the midwife breathlessly, "Is it a boy? A girl?"

I saw her wrapping cloths around a small, wet bundle. She gave it several firm pats. Then the bundle squirmed and let out a high-pitched bawl.

My heart melted. It was the sweetest sound to my ears.

"It's a boy, all right." she said. Then she laughed. "And a strong, healthy one too."

Owen kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand. His voice shook with unbridled ecstasy. "You hear that, Ellie? We have a son!"

The midwife spent a few minutes cleaning the baby of blood and other bodily fluids. The nurses carried out dirty towels and brought in clean ones. Then the midwife looked up to us and smiled. "Would the new mother and father like to get a better look?"

Tears sprang to my eyes. "Yes, of course." I breathed.

I mustered the strength to extend my arms towards the baby. Owen helped to transfer our child into my delicate grip. The infant proceeded to bury half his chubby face into my breast. His tiny hand reached out, with his even tinier fingers grasping thin air.

Tears that welled in my eyes now ran freely down my face.

"What a precious child..." I whispered. I let his fingers cling onto my thumb. "Hello there, little one."

To my delight, he replied with a soft coo. Owen reached out with two fingers and brushed the baby's soft, smooth head.

"Blond hair...just like you, Ellie." he whispered.

"He has your strength, though." I replied. "Just look at him. He's holding onto my finger like there's no tommorrow."

We watched, and gently laughed, when the infant's brow furrowed and his grip tightened. Just the presence of a newborn baby was enough to change the entire room. A perfect, blissful space separate from a world of suffering and mistrust. It even seemed surreal, almost heavenly. My child, his child, a product of our love...any of those terms rang with beauty in my mind.

"So, what do we ought to name our baby son?" Owen asked.

"Nothing too common. Like John or Tom. There's enough of those boys running around today."

"That's true. Then again, we can't go with a name too bizarre." Then he chuckled. "Just think of how much our boy would simply adore us everytime someone pokes fun at his namesake."

I smiled at his wry comment. "Oh, we'll make sure to give him a good name, all right."

Owen stared down at the baby for a while, still stroking our son's wisps of hair. "Hmm...how about...Malachy?" he suggested. "As in Malachy the Mighty."

I looked to him questioningly. "Who is that?"

"I heard about him when I visited the Holy City years ago. Malachy was a legendary knight who hailed from Rabona. He was among their strongest and most distinguished holy warriors, with a heart as true and just as his broadsword."

"It's perfect." I replied. "A strong child named after a strong warrior."

Malachy opened his wide, wet blue eyes and made a toothless grin.

"I think our son agrees." Owen remarked.

**Note: Malachy is pronounced "mal-ah-kee." It's an Irish name that I got from an amazing book called **_**Angela's Ashes**_**.**


	5. Motherhood

**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (5)  
Motherhood**

I enjoyed every moment of being a mother.

My newborn son never ceased to enchant me with his infectious laughs and smiles. Whenever he slept, he looked like a cherub set on earth. I loved watching his belly rise and fall and hearing the murmurs that escaped his parted lips. I loved looking into his wondrous eyes whenever he stirred. When he did, he would crack his toothless grin before settling back to sleep.

But like all babies, Malachy didn't always sleep peacefully.

On some nights I woke up to his crying. I would hold him in my arms and kiss his tear-stained cheeks.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Having bad dreams?" I would softly ask.

Sometimes he cried because he was hungry. I could tell when his little fingers reached out for my chest. I didn't mind nursing him at night; it never failed to soothe both of us to sleep.

As for Owen, he proved to be a wonderful father. When he came home, he always gave Malachy a big, sooty kiss on the cheek. He loved to spend time with our son whenever he could. And Malachy enjoyed the little games he played with his father. Owen liked to engage in mock wrestles with Malachy, who always emerged as the winner.

"I win, I win! Daddy not strong enough!"

Owen pretended to look desperate as Malachy would tackle him. "Mercy! Ellie, save me from this dangerous little beast!"

I just sat back and laughed. "You were right to give him that name. Just look at him go. He's a mighty warrior already."

Malachy's hand curled so that he carried an imaginary sword. He swung his arm and down, making nonexistent slashes into Owen. Eventually I would stop him by saying, "That's enough, dear. You wouldn't want to kill your daddy, would you?"

Little Malachy shook his head and giggled. "Nuh-uh. Killing Daddy would be bad."

* * *

As soon as Malachy could walk, he became a handful. He always wandered around the house with his little yet strong legs, grabbing or touching anything within his reach.

I made sure to stow away any loose or dangerous items, in case he happened to get his hands on them. One time Owen left his wedding ring behind so he could work. You could imagine the reaction I got when I caught Malachy about to stick it in his mouth.

I caught his arm and yanked it from his fingers.

"Honey, don't eat that," I scolded him. "Your dad's going to wonder where it went. What's he going to think if it ended up in your tummy?"

I couldn't stay mad at him for very long. Because he simply looked up at me and giggled. I smiled back and took him to the kitchen so he could eat crackers instead. Though it was sometimes a hassle to make sure he stayed out of trouble, Malachy certainly livened up my times at home.

* * *

Malachy didn't start talking until he hit his second birthday. To my delight, his very first word was "mama."

The catch? He called everything mama.

At least, that was how it went for a while. He would point at things around him and declare it his mother. The table, the house, the horses, the cows, even Owen. And each time I would point to myself and say, "No Malachy, _I'm_ your mama."

Eventually he began to understand. I found the whole thing very funny and cute.

When it was just the two of us in the house, I taught him many things. His favorite was when I showed him how to draw elephants with one pencil stroke. I let him have a try, and he worked tediously over his first picture. When he was done he held it up and looked to me.

"You like it, Mama?"

"I love it, honey. It looks wonderful."

He kept looking at my pictures and back to his own. "But your elephants are so nice. I want to watch you draw some more, Mama."

I obliged and drew slowly so that he could get the details. Then he would imitate what I did. I watched him pouring his heart and soul into making his elephants perfect for me. For some reason it reminded of Owen toiling over the metal, molding and forging them until they came out as weapons of beauty and destruction.

I continued to watch Malachy with a fond smile.

'He is his father's son, all right.'

* * *

You may remember me for my vanity, especially over my hair. The reason is simple, really. My son liked it, and I've kept it that way ever since.

I was giving him a bath one day, and it wasn't until then I noticed that my hair had grown particularly long. Malachy reached out to hold a lock of my hair.

"Your hair is pretty. I like it a lot."

I smiled. "You think so?"

He nodded, then quickly shut his eyes when I scrubbed at his hair and face.

"I was thinking that it's getting too long." I said. "It gets in my way sometimes. Maybe I should trim it."

Malachy shook his head, sending water droplets flying. "No, Mommy. Keep your pretty hair."

I kissed his wet cheek. "All right, sweetheart. I'll keep my hair long just for you."

* * *

After his bath, Malachy looked out the window and dashed outside. He turned to me and beamed. "Wow…look at the moon, Mommy. It's so bright and pretty!"

I smiled at the riveted look on my son's face. The moon reflected the wide, child-like wonder dancing in his eyes.

"Indeed it is, Malachy. And because of that, we must strive to be like the moon."

He turned to me with a questioning gaze. "What does that mean, Mommy?"

"Well, I remember a village elder saying that a long time ago. When I had been a little girl. My grandmother had to explain to me what he meant. People complain when there is too much sun, or when it's too hot. People also complain when it gets too rainy, too humid or too cold."

I looked up. "But, she said, no one grumbles when the moon shines. Everyone is happy and appreciates the moon in their own special way. Children just like you play in its light, people gather at the square to tell stories and dance through the night. A lot of happy things happen when the moon shines. That is why we should want to be like the moon."

I lightly ruffled my son's hair. "And you know what I used to do whenever the moon shone?"

"What, Mommy?"

"I would lay down in bed, or outside the porch, to look at the moon and see what kind of shapes are in it. Sometimes I see the head of a man. Sometimes I see a mother cradling her child."

"Just like you and me!" he piped.

I laughed. "That's right. Just like you and me. Now, what can you see up there?"

Malachy's chubby face scrunched and his lips formed a pout as he concentrated. "Umm…I see a big tree with lots and lots of leaves. Or is that wrong?"

"You can see the moon in any way you want to. There's no right or wrong. For me, I still see that man and mother just as I had many years ago."

He made a high-pitched gasp and thrust a finger eagerly at the moon. "Ooh, I think I see a little dog too! Mommy, can we have a puppy someday? Can we keep one and take care of it?"

"We'll have to see. Perhaps I can ask your father about it."

I tapped my finger on his button nose. He drew back and giggled. I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him close to me and tickled his sides. He squirmed and continued to laugh. I tickled him harder.

Then he let out an ear-piercing screech that made me wince.

"Mommy, Mommy, that tickles!"

I released him. "All right, that's enough moongazing tonight. Let's go to bed."

I rose and took his hand. He pouted when he followed me inside.

"But I want to stay up late."

"Staying up late is for grown ups. Wait until you're older, honey. How about this? Tomorrow I'll take you down to the beach. Does that sound good?"

Malachy bobbed up and down excitedly. "That sounds like fun! I can't wait! Can Daddy come too?"

I chuckled when I tucked him into bed. "Yes, Dad can tag along after he's done with work."

I smoothed his blond hair back and kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Malachy. I love you."

"Love you too, Mommy," he murmured sleepily.

* * *

The next day I took my son to see the beach for the first time, as promised. We stopped by Owen's forge so he could accompany us. He was more than happy to leave work behind and spend time with our family.

Months of pregnancy and years of raising Malachy prevented me from seeing the beach for a while. And looking upon the waves and horizon once more refreshed me. Malachy uttered a cry of delight and scampered towards the sand.

Owen and I trailed behind, holding hands, keeping a close eye on our son. Malachy knelt at the sand, scooping handfuls of it. He looked mesmerized as he let it run through his fingers.

"Come with me and Dad to the water," I said. "The sand there is wet, and you can make castles out of it."

"Okay, Mommy."

He rose and followed us to the shoreline. He squealed when the seawater lapped at his feet.

"Mommy, Daddy, it's cold!" he exclaimed.

He scooted back and clung to the hem of my dress. I laughed and patted his head.

"It's all right, son. The water won't hurt you. It'll get warm over time."

Owen and I sat down so we could help Malachy make sand castles. Malachy groped at scoops of wet sand and piled them together into a mound. Owen fished around for shells. He handed them over to Malachy.

"Here you go, son. Big shells and little shells to make your castle complete."

Malachy smiled. "Thanks Daddy."

"Oh, don't forget the moat," Owen said. "Smart kings make moats around their castles so bad guys won't come through."

"Good idea, Daddy."

I helped Malachy polish his castle while Owen dug a ring around it. Then we scooped seawater in to make a mini moat. Malachy stood up and surveyed his castle proudly. Eventually he was brave enough to venture into the water. He took off his shirt and I held it for him. Malachy tested the water with his toes. Soon he was wading up to his knees, splashing the water around. Owen also stripped his shirt off and handed it to me.

"You sure you don't want to take a swim?" he asked.

"No, I'm okay," I said. "I'll keep an eye out for you two."

Owen dashed into the water with his arms flung wide.

"Graar, I'm a scary Yoma who wants to eat you!"

Malachy screamed and ran away laughing. "Daddy, don't catch me!"

I smiled and watched them romping around. Eventually Owen snatched up Malachy and tossed him in the air. Then he set our son on his shoulders and waded into deep water, both of them laughing the whole way.

"Don't go too far! Make sure I can see you!" I called.

When Owen turned around, only his head poked out from the water. Malachy perched on him and clung to his black hair. It was truly a beautiful sight, seeing my family surrounded by an aura of light from the setting sun.

Then I noticed the waves lapping at my feet, stronger than before.

"You two better come in soon," I said. "The tides are coming."

Owen headed back with Malachy in tow. I shielded my face and laughed when they shook salty water droplets from their bodies.

Malachy watched as the tides came up to claim his castle. He waved at the dwindling pile of sand and shells. "Bye bye, castle."

I took his hand. "Let's watch the tides from the rocks. They'll be up on the shoreline pretty soon."

Owen helped me and Malachy scale up the rocks. We sat and huddled together, with our son between us. Malachy watched with wide-eyed wonder as waves boomed against the cliff faces.

"The sea is alive!" he exclaimed.

"Sure seems that way, doesn't it?" I said.

He snuggled between us. "We'll always be together, right? Daddy, Mommy and me...We'll have fun and love each other every day!"

Owen and I exchanged an affectionate glance. Then we ruffled Malachy's head.

"It's called being a family," Owen said. "No matter what happens, nothing will change that."

We admired the tides and sunset until dark, and we used the village lights to guide ourselves back. On the way I thought about what Owen and Malachy had said earlier. Given the harshness and cruelty of this world, there's no guarantee of Malachy's declaration. Yet it's true that we're a family, and I didn't have the heart to say otherwise.

* * *

I knew it had to come someday. But I never expected four year old Malachy to ask about it so early.

"Mommy?" he asked one day. "Where do babies come from?"

The question took me off guard for a few seconds.

'Okay, stalling time,' I thought.

"Why do you want to know, son?"

He shrugged his little shoulders and looked up at me innocently. "Just wondering. Do two people always get babies?"

My mind raced. "No, not all the time. A man and a woman decide whether they want a baby or not. When it came to me and your dad, we made...uh, a special hug."

"A special hug?"

"Yes. The special hug only works when two people are deeply in love."

"How come Daddy didn't carry me in his tummy, then?"

I thought of a pregnant Owen, and I suppressed a laugh. "Because men like your dad are too busy working. They don't have time to carry the baby. So I let you stay in my tummy until you were ready to come out."

Malachy nodded slowly. "Oh, okay..."

Then he said, "Can I see you and Daddy do a special hug?"

"Special hugs between me and your dad are secret moments."

To my relief, that seemed to satisfy him. He didn't ask anymore about it. For now.

Afterwards, when Owen and I snuggled in bed, I retold the whole story. He laughed heartily when I finished.

"Special hugs, huh? I like the idea."

I shrugged. "That was the best answer I could think of for our little son."

Owen straddled my hips and touched his forehead against mine. "You're right about one thing. Our special hugs are beautiful, private moments."


	6. Letters

**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls (6)  
Letters**

I became pregnant for a second time.

Malachy was excited at the prospect of having a new sibling. "Is it going to be a girl or a boy?" he kept asking.

And every time I replied, "It's too early to know for sure, sweetheart. The doctor will tell us when the baby's ready to come out."

I found the second pregnancy more manageable. I was prepared for the nausea that hit during the first few weeks. And even then the pain didn't bother me that much. Owen, Malachy and I eagerly waited for the new addition to our family. We no longer visited the beach, so I was back to passing the time at home again.

Malachy would play with his toys on the floor, and look up at me from time to time while I cleaned the house.

"Mommy, can I have a job?"

I paused at my work for a moment. Then I resumed polishing some dishes. "What made you ask that, son?"

"Well, you and Daddy have jobs. So I want one too."

"What would you like to do?"

"...Can I be a dragon slayer?"

I laughed as I stowed away the dish rag I had been using. "Not without me or your father having a say about _that_."

Malachy pondered for a while, then he seemed to eye my swollen belly. "Can I be the baby namer?"

"Sure you can. Honey, can you move your things to that chair? I need to sweep the floor."

From then on Malachy bore much pride for his new job. Even when Owen came home, the little boy didn't cease throwing out all sorts of names for his unborn sibling.

Minutes after dinner I would declare jokingly, "All right, Mr. Baby Namer. Time for you to get some shut-eye."

"Aaaw Mommy...I haven't mentioned the girl names yet!"

Three months rolled on peacefully and uneventfully. That is, until word had been received from Rabona.  
It was no public announcement, because Owen and I talked quietly in our bedroom while Malachy slept.

"The Holy City asks for a mass transport of weapons." Owen explained. "There have been reports of recent Yoma attacks."

My brow furrowed. "They've infiltrated the city?"

"No, its walls still hold true and strong. But the soldiers are in need of more spears and bows in stock for a potential siege."

"And what is our part?"

Owen responded with careful reluctance, "A few stablehands and I must deliver the weapons to Rabona. It will probably take a few weeks to do so. A month at most."

He must've noticed my frown and sensed my apprehension. He tried to soothe me by squeezing my hand. "Our village is the closest to the Holy City. They heavily depend on us for trade."

"I know, love. What unsettles me is that you have to be away for so long."

"You have to trust me, Ellie. I'll do my part, and you do yours by taking care of Malachy."

I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm sorry. I must be worrying too much."

Owen simply leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "Then forget your worries," he murmured. "I'll be right here with you while we sleep."

I met his dark gaze and took in his handsome face before closing my eyes. Before I slipped into a world of dreams, I treasured every moment his warm, loving arms surrounded me.

When dawn arrived and shed its light upon my face, my eyes shot open. For a moment I feared that Owen had already departed. I feared that I would wake up to a cold bed and an empty spot next to me. To my relief Owen gave me a reassuring hug at my waist. I turned to meet his sleepy yet amused eyes.

"Good morning, Eleanor," he said softly.

"Good morning indeed," I huffed. "You almost scared me. I thought you had left early."

Owen brushed my bangs with outstretched fingers. "I would never leave without saying goodbye to my wife and son." He sat up in bed and flexed his limbs. "I need to meet the stablehands at my forge. We have to double-check the weapons and rations before leaving. Want to come?"

I flashed him a knowing grin. "Do you have to ask?"

After changing into proper clothes for the day and rousing Malachy, we left for the forge. Five young men, ranging from ages sixteen to twenty, waited at its entrance. Two of them were securing a hefty load on a drawn horsecart. When they spotted us, they paused from their work and waved. As soon as Owen entered his forge, he assumed full command. He motioned to the other three.

"Richard and Sam, help me secure this place. Will, watch over the horse."

Without hesitation they obeyed and went about with their assigned tasks. Little Malachy was in awe of everything in the forge. The gleam of polished blades reflected in his wide eyes. He squirmed in my arms and reached out to touch the weapons mounted on the walls. I gently held him back and restrained his hand.

"Don't touch Daddy's weapons," I warned. "They're sharp and they can cut you."

"But I want one, Mommy. Every dragon slayer needs a sword."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "That again? I thought you were the baby namer."

Malachy put a tiny finger to his round chin. Then he said, "I want to be a dragon slayer _and_a baby namer."

I rolled my eyes at Owen, who chuckled and patted our son's head.

"Wait a little longer, son. When you grow strong enough to hold a blade with two hands, I will teach you so you can slay dragons to your heart's content."

Malachy beamed. "That sounds good."

"Master Owen," a young man called from the cart. "Everything's in place."

Owen acknowledged him with a nod, then his smile faltered. He patted Malachy's head again, this time with quiet solemnity that even the boy recognized.

"You'll come back, right?" Malachy asked quietly.

"Of course. But until then, you're the man of the house. Take care of Mommy for me, okay?"

Malachy nodded firmly. "I will, Daddy. I promise."

Owen grinned. "Good boy."

He pulled me close to him and sealed our lips with a heated kiss. My fingers traced his jaw before we slowly broke apart. Like we had done since we were engaged, we touched foreheads and brushed noses. This time, Owen also reached down to rub my stomach.

"I love you," he murmured. "I love you so much."

I could only nod as my throat clenched. Finally I replied, "Come back alive. And be careful."

He kissed me again and squeezed my hand before letting go. As the stablehands clambered onto the cart, Owen went up to the front and took hold of the reins. He stirred the horse with a gentle shake of the reins. It snorted and made a slow tread to the village gates. With Malachy still in my arms, I followed and stayed by the cart's side until we approached the gates. At this time, other villagers gathered to bid farewell. Owen turned to wave at them, and finally at me, before departing. Malachy and I stayed at the gate until he was well out of our sight. I closed my eyes and made a silent prayer to no god or goddess in particular. I was never one to believe in a religion, but I still carried hope in my heart.

'Give Owen and the stablehands strength and wisdom to aid Rabona. And please have them return safely and soon.'

I had this in mind during the following weeks, hoping for their return.

Sixteen days passed before news of Owen reached me. Because my pregnancy confined me to my home, a neighbor was kind enough to deliver a letter at my doorstep. My heart leapt at the news. I eagerly opened the envelope and read the letter. I smiled at recognizing his crisp handwriting.

_To Eleanor, my dearest,_

_The_ _stablehands and I have reached the city of Rabona without trouble,and I set aside time to write this immediately after our arrival. All is well with us, save for some troubling skirmishes with Yoma versus theRabonian say that the Yoma are persistent, and they keep attacking in bigger, aggressive groups. Because of this, we were asked by Rabona's officials to help out the sentries in addition to ouroriginal mission in simply providing weapons. I have no trouble with this, and I will gladly defend thecity to preserve its people and holy order. I sincerely hope youaren't disheartened by these changes._

_On a lighter note, I think of you, Malachy and our unborn child everyday. I hope that all of you are in good health and high spirits. I look forward to hearing from you and our son'sdaily's adventures._

_~Owen_

Finishing this letter left me feeling mixed. It relieved me to hear that Owen is safely at Rabona. On the other hand, he will have to stay there longer to defend the city. My heart grew heavy at the fact. Then I shook my head. 'Why am I being so selfish? I should be proud of my husband for doing a great and honorable service.'

Malachy was taking a nap in his room. I quietly went to my bedroom and searched for whatever pen and parchment the house had. I sat down and thought for a few minutes before writing my reply.

_To Owen, my love,_

I _have received your letter. I'm glad to hear that you and the villagers are doing well behind the safety of Rabona. Though you will be away for longer than we had thought, know that I'm very proud of you. Offeringto help Rabona only shows the kind and brave man I've always known._

_Malachy and I are doing fine at home. I can feel the baby's kicks now; and from the feel of it, he (or she) is very much healthy and alive. Malachy is still trying to name the baby. He's also constantly asking mewhen you will return so you can teach him to beat dragons. He's getting bored with staying at home and wants to visit the beach someday. Perhaps that's the first thing we'll do once you come home._

_~Eleanor_

After sealing the letter, I gave it to my neighbor so she can send it to the village courtier. Since then I hoped to receive a reply from Owen.  
It didn't come until _a full month _later. And it came with very grim and unsettling news:

_Yoma attacks have stopped. But all of our village men are dead. I'm the only survivor. Rabona released me and I'll be heading back home._

_~Owen_

I held that letter with a trembling hand. My heart pounded against my chest and my stomach felt like it was drenched in ice. I had to sit down to keep from possibly fainting. I closed my eyes and took in deep breaths to clear my dizziness.

'Owen's alive, Owen's alive...' I kept repeating to myself.

Shaky relief washed over me, and I held up the letter to get a better look. It was definitely Owen's handwriting. But something about it seemed so unlike him. It was terse, blunt...almost cold. No proper greeting for me, or concern over his family and even his comrades. Owen may not be a scholar, but he chooses his words carefully and considerately. I've never seen him write anything that sounded so dismissive and brief.

'Then again, he was probably so traumatized,' I reasoned. 'If I were faced with the deaths of my friends, I would be in no mood for a long and pleasant letter.'

Still, it unsettled me. I turned my head when Malachy peeked his head into the kitchen.

"Mommy? Are you okay? Your skin is so white."

I tried to give him a smile. "I'm all right, sweetheart. I have good news: Daddy's coming home."

Malachy's face lit up. "Yay, he's coming home, he's coming home!"

I couldn't help but laugh as he danced around the kitchen with those little legs of his. I set aside the letter and swept him off his feet into my arms. Since the day Owen left, looking at my son's cherubic face always cheered me up. I would much rather laugh and smile with him than looking at that letter.


End file.
